


Summer With Another Wind

by hulklinging



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Roadtrip, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-07 16:45:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10365033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hulklinging/pseuds/hulklinging
Summary: Gansey does not wake up, from his place in the grass on the side of the road.The road trip is a lot less like an adventure, and more like running away, but Henry and Blue are going to give it a shot nonetheless.Until they find a familiar face, on the other side of nowhere.





	1. Denial

**Author's Note:**

> This idea would not leave me alone.
> 
> I'm definitely going with a more... Whimsical, experimental style? If it's unclear what's happening I'll dial it back a bit.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Adam calls it mourning.

Ronan calls it other, much nastier names, but he gives Blue a car anyway, so he can't be too angry about their plans to spend the next six months on the road. Blue cries when she sees it, and Henry holds her. None of them have been able to drive the Pig, ever since Blue took it back to Monmouth, the day after. Privately, Henry knows most of Ronan's anger is aimed at him, because he was the unknown that day, the one that pushed them to do something, and now Gansey is underground and Cabeswater with him. Ronan needs to blame Henry so he can blame himself just a little less. And Henry will carry that weight.

It's the least he can do.

He never got to meet Cabeswater but he still feels the ancient forest's death like some albatross. He's not sure whether Gansey is the storm, the ship, the ocean in this metaphor. In his absence, Gansey feels like no less than the whole world.

Blue had half a mind to leave right after it happened, she had her hands on the steering wheel of the Pig and the road in front of her and she wanted to drive until she could leave the body of the boy she loved behind her. But even small-town Virginia doesn't have those kind of roads. So she stuck around, her and Adam and Henry helping each other to the finish line, while Ronan watches on. The label 'dropout' suits him, although he still walks around with clenched fists. Blue and Adam looked at him, imagined the fights that would come out of him going back to Aglionby, and decided to let this one go.

A certain headmaster plans a memorial and rips up an agreement, with Lynch no longer gracing their great halls and with no Gansey to smoothly hand over the location it would only lead to scandal anyway.

So they make it to the end of the year, all in one piece but adrift, directionless. Adam gets offers from three Ivy League schools, moves to the Barns for the summer, spends his new found free time teaching Opal to read. He doesn't seem surprised at all when Henry and Blue announce they're still going to take their roadtrip, just wishes them the best, makes them promise to call.

Ronan threatens to not pick up, but he doesn't anyway, so Blue doesn't take it personally.

The ladies of 300 Fox Way send them off with smiles and maps that have notes all over them in three distinct hands, from back before the three that are now two settled in Henrietta. Adam gives them each a little stone from the ley line, and the stones feel warm in their hands, and their hearts ache. Ronan doesn't acknowledge Henry at all, but he pulls Blue in for a gruff hug that is wrapped up in complicated things like desperation and regret. Neither of them say anything afterwards, although Blue's eyes are overbright.

They don't have any kind of plan, really. Any planning had been done Before (and yes, there is a Before and After now, above water and drowning, and Henry might call it dramatic except he can see everyone else holding their breath too) and so now they avoid any planning as much as possible. There's no rush, after all, because they've got nothing to hurry back to, the disappointed parents are no longer an issue.

They take turns driving and being in charge of the music, and it's almost easy, almost right, except when they read a road sign and there's no soft knowing voice telling them about the town's history, the origin of the name, the local myths they could be a part of, if they wanted. It's almost easy except neither of them want easy, they want mystery but they've gone and lost theirs.

Henry and Blue zigzag across middle America, and Henry opens Wikipedia and reads about the local cryptics, and Blue traces the ley lines on her mother's map but never quite lets it guide them, and they do okay.

The problem with small towns is that everything looks a little familiar, even though neither of them have been there before. So when Blue first sees a face that reminds her of Gansey, she's not expecting it, and grief hits her like a kiss, like a car crash, like a body crumpling on a road to nowhere. Henry misses the boy but not the reaction, and they leave that town early, drive as far as they can in the remaining hours with the sun, collapse in a small motel room not even caring that the only room left has one bed. They curl around each other, not quite touching, not sure how to, trying to pull comfort from a closeness that is missing a beat.

(Blue doesn't let herself think about what this would be like if the circuit was complete, the three of them on this little bed, what that might mean. She doesn't think about it, because he's not even here anymore and they're still leaving space for him and what does that even mean)

A week later, Henry overhears a voice with precise vowels and a familiar cadence and spills his lemonade across their table.

They get used to hearing and seeing people that remind them of who's missing. Like the space they leave between them, like the gaps in conversation, it's something they both acknowledge but don't want to put words to. If they don't say his name, then he never has to let them down by not answering when they call. This is their way of mourning, Adam was right (he so often is). And their mourning looks like this - looking for stories in small dusty towns, smiling and laughing and forgetting, sometimes. Blue produces some familiar-looking salmon shorts as it starts to get hot, and Henry has a few bright polos that are a little loose in the shoulders and a little shorter than they're supposed to be, and they don't talk about him but they get better at talking around him, taking photos of things they think he'd like, doing things they know he'd laugh at. Celebrating him, the best way they know.

Blue's not even sure of the name of the town they're in, Henry had forgone the Wikipedia article in favour of trying to memorize every lyric of Beyoncé's new album, loudly and usually off key. This means they pull into the little diner's parking lot still chuckling, humming as they lock up the hollow Pig (a metaphor in and of itself, which is why there's already dozens of souvenirs where the engine should be, Polaroid photos and personalized mini license plates and the ugliest magnets Henry can find), Blue playfully shoving Henry's shoulder as they step into the burger joint, one of those ones where the line between pleasantly dated and in vogue retro blurs. There's a cheerful chalk sign saying they can seat themselves, and so they do, kicking at each other's ankles under the table of their little booth. Blue's chest feels lighter than it has since they left Henrietta, and maybe this is it, maybe they're far enough away that breathing is going to get easier.

"Hey, folks. Can I get you anything to drink?"

Across from her, Henry freezes. Blue does too, not wanting to look because she knows what she (won't) see, but some left over bit of pity from her own time as a server saves her, makes her turn to their waiter and force a smile.

That's as far as she gets, because standing in front of their booth is Richard Campbell Gansey the Third.

There are little differences. He's wearing glasses, a little crooked and with thicker frames than he usually preferred. He's wearing a uniform, CAM clearly written on his name tag. Blue realizes she's not sure if he's the same height, she's forgotten how tall Gansey was, exactly, and her heart clenches because what else has she forgotten? But he holds his pen in exactly the same way, and his eyes are bright and interested, even when just taking their orders.

There's no recognition in his eyes.

Blue can't do it, can't find it in her to speak, and she's going to start to cry or shout if she tries, so she reaches out, palm up and fingers outstretched but not touching, never quite touching. Henry must see it, or maybe he just recovers faster, because he gets out that they would love some milkshakes, banana and vanilla, please, and Gansey-sorry-CAM writes down their order with a grin and a promise to be back soon to take their food orders down.

As he walks away, Blue feels something in her collapse. It's impossible, it's simply not real, she's dreaming again, they're just seeing things.

Richard Gansey is dead and buried. They don't say it, don't admit it, but they know. They took his body and put it in the ground, and they cried and they mourned and they all lost parts of themselves with him. This boy is not Gansey, can't be Gansey.

"Henry," Blue gets out, her body threatening to shake apart at the seams.

And Henry reaches out, breaks through that buffer they've been so careful with, tangles his fingers with hers and holds onto her like a lifeline.

"Blue," he says, and she can't remember when he last called her by her name.

They hold onto each other hard enough to hear bones creak, like some ancient forest that died for nothing in the end, staring at each other to make sure that wasn't just in their own heads, that they both saw that.

Somewhere far enough away from Henrietta to be another place entirely, a boy wearing Gansey's face takes their milkshake order, and everything changes now, doesn't it?


	2. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two that should have been three decide what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for self-hate in this chapter, and a lot of guilt. It's a theme. Thanks for reading.

They don't stay for burgers. They finish their milkshakes in silence, which is very strange for the both of them. Henry's on his phone, but he's swiping too fast to actually be reading anything, and Blue is just staring at him, not really seeing him, replaying the conversation in her head over and over and over.

"He's coming back over," Blue says, and Henry flinches, pulls out a few bills and puts them on the table, and then they're rushing out of there, and as soon as they're moving they can't stop, they practically run out to their hollow Pig, and it isn't until the doors slam behind them that they feel like they can breathe again.

"I can't drive right now," Blue says, and moves to switch seats with Henry, but a hand shoots out and grabs her wrist like a vice. She looks over, and Henry's shaking his head, frantic, his mouth moving but no sound coming out.

So they sit, in the front seat of the Pig. Somehow that vice grip shifts, so they're holding hands again, painful enough to remind them this is real.

"What the fuck." Blue keeps saying. "What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck."

Henry doesn't say anything at all.

Finally, Blue sticks the keys in the ignition (Gansey's keys, not some keys Ronan dreamed up for her) and guns it. Henry abandons his hold on her to clutch the dashboard, eyes wide. There's a buzzing, and RoboBee slips out of the open window. Blue doesn't question it, her knuckles white on the steering wheel as she takes the turn out of the parking lot without even appearing to look to see if there was oncoming traffic. Henry makes a strangled sound of panic.

Blue doesn't slow down, just heads back to the highway, wanting to put as much space between her at this little town she can't even remember the name of. About a half an hour out, there's a pit stop with some scrubs and a picnic table, and making a split second decision, she pulls in and comes to a screeching stop, sprawled across at least three parking spots.

She yanks out her phone, every movement she makes an act of promised violence. The phone is already ringing by the time

Henry finds his voice.

"Who are you calling?"

Blue's never heard his voice like this, so soft and hesitant. She has to lean towards him to even catch what she's saying, the phone still ringing in her other ear.

"Adam."

Henry's eyes go wide, and he shakes his head.

"You can't do that!"

Blue scowls. "Why not? It's the fastest way to get a hold of Ronan too, you know he won't pick up the phone-"

Henry's hands are waving in front of him, tracing shapes in the air like he's trying to physically grasp at what he's trying to get across. "You can't, not until we're sure."

"Are you not sure?"

He looks at her, and she looks back, and when he slowly shakes his head she crumples, slams her hands on the steering wheel. The horn blares, and they both flinch.

"Blue, we can't... Ronan Lynch doesn't lie. If we're wrong... If we call and they come and we're wrong..."

He's right, and she hates that he is, she hates how helpless she feels. She hits the button to hang up the phone, throws it in the backseat before she does something like chuck it out the window. One hand is up in her hair, tugging at the clips, and the pain helps her settle, although she can still feel the anger surging in her, wanting to rip things up, wanting to scream.

"What do we do, then? What the fuck do we do?"

Henry seems to have lost his voice again, hugging one knee up to his chest. Even his hair looks deflated. She can't remember him ever looking this small than in this moment, tucked away in the front seat of a dream, an approximation of a dead friend's space.

Her voice lowers, and she mirrors him, curled up in the driver's seat, like parenthesis around what's missing, around the name neither of them feel like they can say.

"What do we do, Henry?"

He grabs his phone, and the anger spikes again. He can't even put it down for ten minutes to have this serious conversation, he can't even stay present for something as important as this. But after a few clicks, he twists the phone to show her.

It's a motel room booking. For nine days. It's not far from the diner, if she remembers her street names correctly.

Nine days. Nine days to figure out what the hell is happening.

Can they handle this for nine days?

"Book it," she says, and Henry gives her a shaky smile.

* * *

Blue feels a flash of fury when she sees the hotel room has one bed, but stomps it down. They've been going with single bed rooms for a week or two now, and really it's her own fault because she's the one that insisted they split the bill. Right now though she wants space. She needs to... Cry. Something. She feels hollow and burnt out and when she closes her eyes her mind superimposes CAM's smile and glasses over Gansey's dead body. They're the same, she feels it in her gut that this isn't just in her head this time. Henry saw it too, he heard it, there's something strange and magical happening here, except-

Except if it was really magic, there would have been something other than polite detachment in his eyes, when he'd seen them. If it really was magic, his lips would have shaped her name and she could stop dreaming about the kiss, the kiss that killed him, she could move on from this wretched self-hate that is haunting every footstep.

And she could have Gansey back. Now that, that would be magic.

This... This is just cruel.

"I'm hopping in the shower," she tells Henry, and doesn't look to him to see his response. She turns the knob so that it's near scalding, and tries to burn everything away.

* * *

Henry is on his phone. He feels nauseous, because he hates being angry and so does his body, rebelling against the emotion he so often pushes down and away. He's thankful for the space Blue's shower gives him, hopes that by the time she's come out the words will be thick on his tongue again.

He struggles with language sometimes, not language like first and second but language like speech. He hasn't gone completely nonverbal where someone else could see in months, though. It feels like a step backwards, even though he knows that's not how it works.

It's strange, adrift like this, Blue feeling so far away. He shoots a text to Cheng2, something stupid and meaningless and grounding, and then checks up on RoboBee. He left RoboBee at the diner, which means he knows that the boy who cannot be Richard Gansey III is still there.

He jots a note down to Blue, saying he's gone for a walk to clear his head but not saying to where, and heads out.

The fresh air cools his skin, which felt like it was burning, and he lets his anger cool and freeze. This is the kind of anger he's more used to, this cold frozen feeling. Henry Cheng can hold a grudge. He just can't burn hot with it. It tires him out, makes him feel worn down, used up.

He lets his anger freeze over, not even sure who it's aimed at but hating it nonetheless. It takes him all of the short walk to the diner to manage it, but he does, just in time for RoboBee to buzz by him and settle on his shoulder. He smiles, feeling a little more steady knowing he's not alone, and tucks the bee carefully into his pocket before stepping inside.

The door jingles at his entrance, and a girl helping a table by the window gives him a wave. Henry nods back, not quite trusting his own voice just yet, and moves to sit back at the same booth they'd been at earlier.

"Hello, welc- Oh! You're back!"

Henry doesn't flinch at the voice this time, just forces his body to move towards Cam and give him his best smile.

"Sorry about earlier," he says, and the words flow easily. They always did, around Gansey. "I promise I won't run out withou saying goodbye this time."

Cam chuckles, and Henry feels his muscles relax into the seat just a little. It feels easy, much too easy, and familiar in all the tiny ways he's been missing. The line has a bit more weight than he meant it, but Cam didn't seem to notice.

Henry hadn't said goodbye. He thinks about it every night, long after Blue is snoring softly on the pillow next to his.

And maybe this is something supernatural, or maybe it's some shared hallucination, some chance to fake closure. He'll take it.

He'll take anything, at this point.

"Well, can I get you anything?"

Henry looks at the menu. He can't even make out words, if he's being honest. So he turns his biggest, brightest smile Cam's way and asks him for whatever his favourite is.

Cam blinks, and Henry's sure it's all in his head, but he thinks his cheeks might get a little pink.

"Yeah? Of course, we can do that. Any allergies?"

Henry shakes his head, and now that his words are back they won't stop. "Maybe two of those? If you want. You could sit with me. We're in town for a few days, would love to hear a local's suggestions for what to get up to."

Cam brings his thumb and forefinger to his lip, absentmindedly tugging at it as he looks around at the almost-empty restaurant. It's that awkward time between lunch and dinner, probably.

"I can ask?" At Henry's eager nod, he grins, his cheek dimpling. "I'll be right back, then."

Good. It gives Henry a moment to recover from the punch to the gut seeing that gesture was. He closes his eyes, breathes in and out deep enough that when he opens his eyes his vision is a little spinny, like that first toke of a joint, like a shot when you've been sober for too long. He breathes out, and the anger is hidden away. What replaces it is this - this knowledge that he would wait for years right here if it meant he could see Gansey (Cam, he needs to be careful, this is Cam) smile at him again.


	3. Bargaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk it out, and attempt to make a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 1. Much longer than I thought it was going to be, and 2. One I'm very unsure of... Thanks for reading.

Blue's memories of the weeks after Gansey's death are hazy.

She can't get the feeling of Gansey's lips off of her, can't help but feel the weight of him. He died in her arms and she's still carrying him, every step she takes a struggle. It felt like walking through a dream, even wen she was awake. And if ever she needed proof that there was no magic in her, no touch of Greywaren or Magician, it was in her empty hands every morning. She would find Gansey in her dreams and hold on as tight as she could, and every morning wake up remembering what his kiss felt like, hands grasping at nothing.

So when she wakes up from her nap, brain foggy, for a moment she thinks she is back in those first few weeks, when nothing felt real. Slowly the day comes back to her, and then she's looking around at the empty hotel room, panic eating at her as she realizes she's here alone. Blue kicks off the covers (Henry must have tucked her in, she doesn't remember doing it herself) and is trying to tug on her shoes when the toilet flushes and Henry steps out of the bathroom.

"Oh," Blue says, feeling a little caught, trying to balance against the bed, one shoe half on. "You're here."

"Yeah, I just got back. I brought you a burger." He points at the windowsill, which has a takeout box perched precariously on it. "Their fries are really good."

She wants to run at him and hold him tight, fight back the panic of him being gone just for a moment. It's irrational, so Blue instead slumps back onto the bed, kicking off her shoes and staring at the food Ike that will make it come to her.

Henry sees her looking and brings the food over, presenting it with a flourish that makes Blue giggle in spite of herself. She rolls her eyes at his antics and digs in. It's a veggie burger, and even with it being a little cold it's still very good. The food crushes the last of her panic, and she can look at Henry again. Her mouth is full, so she doesn't ask. She just raises an eyebrow and he sits down on the other side of her food, nodding like he's agreeing to something she didn't say.

"He was still there when I went back. I talked to him a bit."

"Yeah?"

Henry steals a fry and dips it into a little container of something that looks suspiciously like mayo. Blue wrinkles her nose.

"That's gross."

Henry steals another fry just to dramatically dip it into the mayo again. "Delicious. Great for the hair, too."

This conversation shouldn't be so hard. Blue's dying to know what they talked about, but she can't wrap her mouth around the right words to ask. So she teases Henry for his gross taste in condiments and he talks about how they'll have to try poutine, when they finally get around to crossing the border, and they go back to avoiding the dead King in the room. He's wearing a new name tag, but nothing's really changed, right?

Until Henry concedes the last fry to her and sits back, his face shifting into something more serious.

"It was very... Surreal."

"What was he like?" Blue pushes their rubbish away so she can scoot closer, hands balled into fists on the bed. "Was he...?"

Henry shrugs. It's such a simple gesture, and in this moment it doesn't mean a thing. "He's nice. He's taking a gap year to work so that he can go to college. He moved here six months ago, from some other small town that is basically the same as this one." Henry pauses, and his voice gets thinner, like he has to work harder to keep it steady. "He got excited when he heard we were from Henrietta. Did you know a few months ago a group of kids found an old Welsh King's tomb there?"

Blue's stomach drops, and there it is, that weight again. "Henry," she says, suddenly desperate. "Is it possible? Is it... Is it somehow him? That's impossible, right?"

Henry's tracing the ugly pattern on the hotel's comforter. "I don't think I'm qualified to talk about what is and isn't impossible, Boss."

Blue remembers him, standing on the side of the road, begging for them to do something, anything, and she can't stand the guilt in his eyes. She reaches out and grabs his hand. She thinks they've touched more in the last twenty four hours than they have in this whole trip.

"Not your fault," she tells him, and he doesn't look up but he's stopped moving. It's so rare to see him still, so she knows he must be listening. "We had to try something, you were right. It's not your fault."

"He died in my sweater." It's a strange statement, said like a confession rather than a fact. Like it made him responsible.

"And my kiss killed him." They don't talk about it, they don't say these things out loud. "It's no one's fault, Henry."

He laughs at this, and finally looks up at her. She reaches out and wipes the tears from his cheek before she can think too hard about it. "You don't believe that, Miss Marie."

Blue opens her mouth to deny that, and then her eyes narrow.

"Was that just now an X-Men reference? In the middle of our very serious conversation?"

Henry blushes, caught out. But Blue doesn't mind, because the tension between them is gone now, and she can fill her lungs again.

"Should never have watched those movies with you," she says.

Henry waves a hand at her. "They're important! Also a great way to show off Beautiful British Columbia."

"I'll see that for myself soon anyway."

Henry turns to her, surprised. Like he thought because of... Whatever this is, their roadtrip was nearing an end. That wouldn't do at all.

"Henry," she says. "Whatever happens here... I still want to keep going. Okay? I'm not going to ditch you just because we may or may not have found..."

"Our dead friend working a serving job in some burger joint in the middle of nowhere?"

"Yes, that."

Henry puts on an over exaggerated thinking face. "You know, maybe this is just purgatory. It kind of sounds like it."

"Hey! No making fun of serving jobs until you've actually done one, mister."

"Deal," he says, and the word feels heavier than him just agreeing to not tease her. It feels like a promise.

"We'll figure it out," she murmurs, and he nods.

"Deal," he repeats, and that is that.

Nine days to make a miracle happen. They can do that.

* * *

 

The next morning, things seem clearer. Blue wakes up with a plan already forming in her mind, and by the time Henry starts to stir, she's showered, dressed, and finishing a Starbucks yoghurt cup. The granola and fruit have been carefully set to the side, and Henry picks at them and sips away at the chai tea latte Blue brought back for him, eyeing her. She's in another ugly pair of shorts today, and she's got a determined set to her jaw.

"You look positively radiant with purpose," Henry tells her. She sticks her tongue out at him, but it does little to dispel the feeling hanging heavy in their little hotel room. Blue has made her mind up about something, which means it shall be done.

Henry is nervous, which means he's rambling. Today's topic is of course everything he learned about Cam the day before.

"He wants to go into History but is worried it's not practical. He's an only child. He's never seen the ocean. He wants to travel but can't afford it."

Blue lets it all flow over her. Her plan isn't much, she just wants to get him talking, wants something more tangible as proof. Some hint that it's him, more than just coincidences. Her gut says what they've always said, that coincidences don't exist, but that could just be the mourning talking. This could all be some sort of fever dream. She needs something she can hold in her hands.

Henry chooses one of Gansey's old shirts for the occasion too, although Blue frowns at his choice.

"Maybe you should wear the Madonna one," she says. "Maybe he'll recognize it."

"It's Madonna," Henry says, looking vaguely offended. "Of course he'll recognize it."

"That's not what I meant."

Henry reaches out and tugs at a clip in Blue's hair that was threatening to fall out anyway, plays with it a moment before putting it back into her mess of a hairstyle more securely. "You're not exactly aiming for a canon outfit either here, Capri Sun."

Blue stares at him.

"Get it? Because the shorts are like capris on yo-"

Blue brings a hand up and covers his mouth.

"Shhh," she says. "Get in the fucking car, Cheng."

Henry licks her hand, and honestly, she doesn't know what she expected. She gets her revenge by wiping her hand on his shirt, and beating him to the passenger seat.

"We could probably walk just as easily," Henry reminds her, but she's already got the car on and the music blaring.

"Sorry!" Blue shouts. "Can't hear you over the music I get to choose!"

Henry sings the whole way just to spite her. They're fronting, for sure, trying too hard to hit a sense of normal that it almost comes off as manic, but it's better than the anger of yesterday. One and a half shout-sang songs later, they're there.

"He has the morning shift today, don't worry. I asked."

"That's not creepy at all."

"I figured it was no more creepy than hanging around all day waiting for him."

"Fair."

They sit in the same booth, pretending to look over the brunch menu, though both of them are staring at Cam, who is cleaning up a table on the other side of the restaurant. They're both so focused on watching the boy's every move that they don't notice they have company until she clears her throat.

"Hello!" says the girl standing by their table, her customer service smile turned up to full brightness. "Any drinks I can get started for you?"  
Henry goes ahead and starts asking about what juices they have, but Blue's stuck on the girl's nametag. JANE, it says, and there's no such thing as coincidences, and she's starting to get a terrible feeling in her stomach.  
She remembers that moment, asking Cabeswater to die for him, thinking of all the things that made Gansey Gansey, and she remembers begging and bartering. _Please, he deserves another chance,_ she had thought. _It doesn't have to be with me, even. I would do anything for him to have one more chance._

Blue should have been more specific. She's an amplifier, after all. She should have been more careful with what she offered in exchange.

Jane leaves, and Blue puts her head down on the table. She's not sure if she's actually sick or the room's just spinning to spite her, but she closes her eyes against the vertigo anyway, and tries to remember where she is.

She needs to stay in the present. Henry needs her here, and she can't let him down.

Not like she –

_Stop it._

"Here's your apple juice, and the tea, too!" Jane's voice grates at Blue, and she knows that's unfair, she does recognize that. The girl can't help her name. But Blue can't help the pain in her chest when she sees it, either.

"Thank you!" Henry's got it, so Blue keeps her head on the table, using the cold tabletop as a means of grounding herself. "Not that you aren't lovely, Lady Jane, but Cam's working today, right?" Henry says it so easily, like they didn't just spend a few minutes staring at him. Maybe she hadn't noticed.

"Oh, are you the guy from yesterday? Yeah, just a second." She raises her voice, a laugh sneaking into her tone. "Hey, Dick! Your new friends are back!"

Henry's voice is much more strained now, although he fakes a laugh of his own. "Dick?"

"Oops, sorry." Jane sounds a little embarrassed. Blue still doesn't look up, focuses on keeping her breathing even. "He usually goes by his last name, but his first name is Richard, and the 'Dick and Jane' jokes are too cute to pass up, you know?"

Nope. That's it, that's her limit. Blue slides out of the booth, still not looking at Jane. "I'll be right back," she mutters, not even caring if she's loud enough for Henry to hear, and then she's headed to the washroom. She needs a moment, is all. Just to get herself under control.

The last thing she wants to do is cry in front of Jane.

The washrooms are close to their table, close enough that if she stands by the door she can still hear them, hear Richard aka Dick Cam come over and introduce Henry to Jane ("Jane, this is Henry Cheng! Henry, this is my girlfriend, Jane.") and she feels like she might throw up. But doing that would mean missing out on some of the conversation, so she curls up by the door and just listens.

"Is your girlfriend okay?" Jane is asking, and she doesn't have to be able to see Henry to know that a blush is spreading across his cheeks.

"Ah, Blue's not my girlfriend. She just... We lost someone important to us? Her..." Blue can practically feel the words slipping away from Henry. She should really go out there.

_Thirty more seconds, and I'll go back out._

She would do anything to not have to, to not be a two at all, but they missed that chance they threw that away and now she's hiding in a washroom from a ghost with a familiar face.

"Oh." There's genuine concern in Cam's voice. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault! She just... Well, his name was Richard? And he called her Jane. It probably just overwhelmed her." His voice breaks, betraying that she wasn't the only one feeling overwhelmed.

"Huh." And she closes her eyes and imagines the pause is for him to tug at his lip. "Coincidence."

Blue bites her lip and does not cry.

"Hey, hun, why don't I take your section for a bit? You can take your break, even." A sweeter pause. Blue wonders if she kissed him. Maybe just the cheek. The jealousy that's burning her up isn't helping either. She pushes it away. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Footsteps, heading away. Shuffling.

"I can go too, if you'd like," Cam is saying. "Give you some space."

"It's fine," says Henry, sounding a little too desperate to have him stay. "It's alright. Well, no, it's not, but it's got nothing to do with you."

"I guess that explains your reaction yesterday, too?"

A pause. Blue wonders if Henry had just nodded. "You look a bit like him, too. Sorry if that makes us coming back here weird."

Another pause

"So!" Henry says, forcing his tone to somewhere lighter. "Dick?"

Cam laughs. "Richard, technically. Richard Campbell. I usually just go by my last name."

"Right!" Henry sounds almost manic now, and Blue stands up, knowing she's got to go back out there. "Makes sense! I went to a fancy private school. Lot of white boys with important families. Most of us went by our last names there, too."

"In Henrietta, right? Did you know any of the people who found Glendower?"

A very long pause. Blue holds her breath and wonders which way Henry will go with this.

"...Yes. I was there, actually. Joined up just in time for the climactic discovery. Blue helped with the actual finding, although I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from asking her about it." Henry's voice gets quieter, and Blue has to crack the door open to hear. "He... The one we lost. He was the one who wanted to find him the most. It was his quest, we were all just supporting characters, really."

"I see." Blue can see the back of Henry's head, through the crack in the door, and Cam's face, twisted in confusion and sympathy. "Did it happen during the discovery? I had wondered why none of the articles mentioned anyone by name."

"Just after," Henry gets out.

"Sorry. I shouldn't be making you talk about this."

"It's okay." It isn't, nothing is. "It's... Nice, talking about him."

Because they never did, never in so many words, just dancing around it all. Blindfolded, trying to avoid the potholes that would send them crashing down.

"This trip was supposed to be the three of us." Henry says it unprompted, and Cam leans in, like he doesn't mind listening to some strange kid's sob story. He probably doesn't. Blue remembers a different boy with the same face listening intently, not always understanding her experiences, so different from his own, but wanting to understand, wanting to get it. An adventurer, an explorer and a scholar, in every aspect of his life.

She can't look at him, she'll burn away, but she cracks the door open a little more. She might not know much about mythology, but this is a story she knows just fine. Wax isn't right for wings but she'll fly at the sun anyway.

"Where are you headed?"

Henry shrugs. "Nowhere in particular. He might have had a plan. We've been... Avoiding one on purpose, at this point."

They save his name for special occasions, because if they whisper it three times and he doesn't appear they won't be able to handle it. But they're not really handling it anyway, are they?

Cam says something Blue doesn't catch, and she opens the door all the way, not so much deciding whether to renter the conversation as she is scared of missing any more of the conversation. Cam notices, and looks over at her, but Henry doesn't, which means she gets to hear every word he says perfectly.

"Well with us it's less of a Twilight thing, and more of me being absolutely in love with both of them. Unless that's your interpretation of Twilight, at which point it's a Twilight thing with a little less stalking. So no, I didn't mind at all. I..." Henry trails off, and follows Cam's gaze, his eyes going wide as he sees Blue standing in the doorway behind him. He stares at her, and she stares at him, and the other thing they don't talk about is splayed out across this little diner floor.

Blue would give up her right to drive the hollow Pig for the rest of the trip to have kept that door closed. But she's done enough bargaining these last few months to know that no one is listening to what she has to offer. So like everything else in her life right now, she'll have to find a way of forgetting this, burying this feeling she doesn't have the willpower to deal with right now, all on her own.

She takes a step forward, and Henry flinches, forces himself to stay put. Blue forces herself to move. If no one else says anything, they can just pretend it didn't happen.

They can get back to dealing with this on their own.

She sits down and forces herself to pick up the menu, skips right to the deserts.

"Do you have any gelato?"

She knows these steps blindfolded, after all.


End file.
